


Ghosts of Boyfriend's Past

by chucks_prophet



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Anxiety, Anxiety Disorder, Anxious Castiel, Domestic Dean Winchester, Domestication, Established Castiel/Dean Winchester, Established Relationship, Eventual Happy Ending, Facebook, Light Angst, M/M, Moving In Together, Past Benny Lafitte/Dean Winchester, Past Relationship(s), Some Humor
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-12-04
Updated: 2015-12-04
Packaged: 2018-05-04 22:52:34
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,842
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5351357
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/chucks_prophet/pseuds/chucks_prophet
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>While Dean isn’t outwardly saying it, Cas felt it like a jackhammer on his skull: Whatever they have isn’t enough. And it would never be enough. </p><p>The one where Dean and Cas (unlike the nature of the show) are a thing, and Benny comes to the rescue.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Ghosts of Boyfriend's Past

_Sweet precision and soft collision/Hearts about to palpitate/And I find it hard to separate_

_And all I want is for you to be happy and_

_Take this woman and make you my family and_

_Finally you have found someone perfect_

_~ Red Hot Chili Peppers, “Hard to Concentrate”_

Ghosts of Boyfriend’s Past

Castiel glanced at his figure demurely, admiring the last perfect handiwork of God. The boy caught his oogling with his gobstopper green eyes—a hard, rounded Granny Smith exterior with a soft, yellow inside that burned like the earth’s core—and matched it with an equally demure lip bite. Cas tracked the movement, mesmerized. His long eyelashes flickered back to his Mac that he'd remembered they were taking an Economics test and it probably looked like Cas was sizing up some _actual_ numbers.

Castiel had studied alright. Studied the expanse of his chiseled pentagram through his skintight Metallica shirt and the rounded bare backs of his lightly mottled arms—he’d been forced to tear his eyes away after he counted 79 freckles.

That was the first but certainly not the last time he failed a test. Their thieving glances led to stare-offs and cliché note passing and heated make out sessions in the copy room across the hall. If Cas thought he _looked_ marvelous, he felt, sounded, and tasted the part too. It would've been a trifecta of stagnant beauty had he not smelt intoxicating. Cas was certain if he played with fire long enough, he’d burn to the smell of watered-down bourbon and pine freshener.

Like drugs, self-pleasure, and just about anything else that are worth sinning for, Dean Winchester is taboo.

On the contrary, despite running hot, Dean has never burned him. Sure, he has a slightly agnostic view of himself, but who doesn't? Besides, he puts the amount of faith in Cas a normal person puts in God or Johnny Depp, so it's not as if he ever has a reason to be disappointed (Stay tuned). Six months of "chick-flick moments", as Dean so easily puts it, and Cas hasn't given Dean a reason to lose his religion.

And fuck, Dean is so good to him. Whether it's over the sheets or under them, Dean is always a breath away. It's a wonder how Cas ever got so lucky.

“Cas, babe, you okay?”

Castiel turns to meet his boyfriend’s eyes, pooling with concern, and nods shyly. “Yeah, I was just thinking.”

“It’s a big step, I know,” Dean says, shifting his weight toward Cas on their futon. Cas continues to bore more holes into the weeping ceiling. Dean promises they’ll get memory foam once they’re completely settled in. “It’s just, I’ve never felt… you know, with anyone before and…”

Cas can hear the sincerity in his deep voice and feels his stomach acids melt yesterday’s lunch. “I know,” he replies before craning his head, a small smile breaking thoughts so penetrating and loud.

Dean kneads his needled caramel hair into his lumpy pillow like a cat and parts his mouth—an invitation Cas knows all too well. The kiss is too tentative to add an extra inch to his morning wood, but like hell if it doesn’t ripple through his spine and crinkle his toes. Without warning, Dean attacks his mouth, tugs Cas closer by the length his fat tongue. Cas climbs on top of him, tangles his fingers in his hair, and presses him into the air mattress with the steady grind of his hips as Dean kisses him senseless…

“Mmmhgn, Bobby is gonna murder my ass,” Dean moans into his neck as the guitar line of “Hard to Concentrate” by Red Hot Chili Peppers blares over the radio.

Cas chuckles low, whispering in his ear predatorily, “Not if I get to it first.”

“The shop can wait,” Dean decides, pulling Cas back into his mouth.

***

Cas worries on his lip and fidgets with a tuff of hair that _just won’t mold with the others._

Food has no commitment. If you’re full, that’s it. If you’re roaming the halls at an ungodly hour of the night, despite inhaling a three-course meal and dessert just hours before, you eat. Pets require commitment, love, nurture; things Castiel had no knowledge of how to do for _himself_ until meeting Dean. Pets = domesticity. Meaning Dean wants something that will solidify their relationship.

The worst part of it is Dean isn’t pressuring him into pet adoption. He merely wants to enlighten him with the idea itself. But like any good politician, Castiel’s mind feeds him claims he knows are outlandish, but can’t bring himself to believe are false. While Dean isn’t outwardly saying it, Cas felt it like a jackhammer on his skull: Whatever they have isn’t enough. And it would never be enough.

Cas presses the power button on his adopted _HP_ , smiling faintly at the lockscreen picture.He and Dean spent their first college summer in Cabo despite a serious shortage of funds. Dean holds the camera with both hands as he kisses his boyfriend of three months on his sand-glazed and sunburnt cheek. Cas’s face wrinkles under duress of his lover, leaving one blue eye poking out like a washed up jellyfish. 

His sole intention is to check his e-mail, but Dean’s logged onto Facebook in a separate tab. Cas typically has no interest in other people’s staged lives. What catches his attention this time; however, is what section of his profile Dean is currently editing.

**Relationship status:** _In a relationship. He’s my cherry pie. (;_

Cas giggles. They could be going over their _vows_ and Dean would recite the lyrics to a long-forgotten hair metal classic. (“No one forgets Asia, Cas.” “Only Time Will Tell.”)

Below that is a list of Dean’s previous relationships. Cas closes the screen. I’m checking my e-mail and that’s it, he thinks—only to open the screen and scroll through the list of suspects:

 

_Cassie Robinson (2007)_

_Lisa Braeden (2009-2010)_

_Lydia (_ _・ｪ_ _-_ ) _(2011)_

_Benny Lafitte (2011-2014)_

Cas grooms over the list again, this time he hovering over each individual name to produce a preview of their profile. Cassie Robinson is happily married with two kids, Lisa Braeden is in a relationship with a hunky man from the Philippines, Lydia is in an open relationship with a very pretty blonde woman, and Benny…

Is single. (If you don’t count the status that says _“Married to the sea”_.)

This surprises him because of how handsome the man is. He scrolls through myriad pictures of the quasi Popeye. He has eyes akin to, well, the _sea,_ in stark contrast to his almost vampiric skin tone, and mountains of graying scruff to hide the mileage around his lips. He wears a thicker meat suit, only because his shoulders are so broad. Besides, it fills his face well, Cas thinks, and he looks happy. Wistful, but happy.

He sees what Dean once saw in him. The adventurous type; always thirsty for life. Cas wishes he could drink from the pail. The public fountain can only sate his thirst for so long, but it was the easier and safer resort.

Before Cas can figure out how to log off, a _ping_ sounds the computer. He jumps.

**Cassie Robinson:**

_Dean Winchester, as I live and breathe. How the hell are you?_

No love lost there. But how does she know—?

Another _ping._

**Lisa Braeden:**

_It says you were viewing my page five minutes ago. Hope all is well with you and your brother, much love from the Philippines. Xoxo_

Timestamped views? Cas remembers why he isn’t on Facebook.

-Ping-

**Lydia (** **・ｪ** **-):**

_Where’s my money, u asshole_

** Typing… **

_U owe me and Emma $1000 in child support_

** Typing… **

_I know ur outta jail_

** Typing… **

_What, 2 afraid to be a father you lowlife piece of_

Cas closes out of that chat box. That has to be the one-night stand Dean told Cas about, where the chick claimed to foster his child a year after their affair. Dean paid no mind to her and eventually it became nothing more than a funny story… until now.

Whoops?

Cas threatens to close the tab completely—seeing as he already has enough evidence against him should Dean decide to raise an argument—and then another chat box opens.

**Benny Lafitte:**

_Dean… was about to untie Andrea when my phone told me you were checkin up… what’s up, Chief? Still wrestlin coyotes? ...You oughta come out here sometime. Dodge City doesn’t compare to the winds that get put into my sails every day_

Cas smiles.

Before he can contain himself, he types back:

_Sorry to disappoint, I’m Castiel—aka Cherry Pie._

**Benny Lafitte:**

** Typing… **

_ah, the new boyfriend… no worries, man… it’s nice to (unofficially) meet you_

**Dean Winchester:**

_You too._

**Benny Lafitte:**

_so…_

** Typing… **

_If it’s not forward of me to ask… why were you on my page?_

Cas has to think fast. He wants to tell him the truth—he’s an overeager, anxiety-ridden piece of shit, but he also wants to lift Benny’s spirits. He comes up with:

**Dean Winchester:**

_Dean was already on your page when I opened the computer. I was the one keeping it active a few minutes ago. You have a very nice… boat._

**Benny Lafitte:**

** Typing… **

_Haha well thanks, Cas… you’re not so bad yourself, judging by the ass-ton pics Dean posts on a weekly basis… but huh… never thought he’d be on my profile anytime soon… or ever_

**Dean Winchester:**

_Why’s that?_

**Benny Lafitte:**

** Typing… **

_… i haven’t exactly kept in touch with him this past year… not like i have any excuses… i just wish things ended differently between us, i guess… Dean’s a good man_

**Dean Winchester:**

_Yeah…_

**Benny Lafitte:**

_Why do i sense there’s an untyped ‘but’?_

**Dean Winchester:**

_It’s nothing, it’s just I have this… thing. Dean’s a good man, without a doubt, I just sometimes wonder if I’m_

** Typing… **

_Holding him back, maybe?_

**Benny Lafitte:**

_i take it you guys moved in together_

**Dean Winchester:**

_A few weeks ago, yeah. Does he typically move this fast?_

**Benny Lafitte:**

_you kidding? It took two and a half YEARS for ME to convince him to move in…_

**Dean Winchester:**

_That’s so weird._

**Benny Lafitte:**

** Typing… **

_look, i just met you, but i can guarantee from experience this thing you have… that’s the only thing that’s gonna hold you back from him… Dean Winchester’s in love with you, meaning you found someone who’s willing to keep the ugly and cut right to the good stuff… and from the sounds of it, he really digs you. And that’s somethin special_

Cas smiles wide as a trenched sigh escapes him. It’s the first time he feels relieved of his burden since… God, he can’t remember.

_Cas… you still with me, buddy?_

**Dean Winchester:**

** Typing… **

_Yeah, yeah… I just… could we possibly continue this conversation later? I have to kiss my boyfriend senseless._

**Benny Lafitte:**

_Haha no problem, man… save a kiss from me, huh?_

**Dean Winchester:**

_Definitely. Thank you, Benny._

**Benny Laffite:**

_Have a good one, Cherry Pie._

 

 

 

 


End file.
